Bitter Irony
by Lina Prewett
Summary: Harry finds himself in a dark, dank cavern in his ultimate quest for the Dark wizard Voldemort. What ever befalls him there shall shape the wizarding and muggle worlds for ever...


A/N: This is a transfer over from my HPFF account, so it's older that the date says. This was written in 2007, in case you're wondering.

* * *

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

In the dank, pitch black cavern, the walls seemed to glow in the soft blue light emitted from the end of his wand, as icy water dripped slowly from ceiling to floor.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

The now 23-year old Harry Potter whirled around, frantically trying to spot his invisible foe, and shadows danced by the light of his wand. Knocking his glasses askew, Harry hurriedly righted them, muttering a string of curse words at his own stupidity. He nervously rumpled the back of his now-greying hair, tiredly blinking his emerald green eyes, which were now dull and lifeless.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

Too many people had been lost in this war; and so Harry had resorted to searching vainly, day after night, night after day, to finish him off forever, or perish at his hand. Of the bad news, the worst had come recently, actually only two days ago. A tearful and distraught Hermione had reported to Harry and Professor McGonagall, the new head of the Order of the Phoenix, the horrible news: Hermione and Ron's house had been attacked by Death Eaters, Hermione escaping narrowly with only minor injuries. Ron, however, had not been so lucky.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

Harry took a few tentative steps forward across the slimy ground, his lighted wand creating even more dancing shadows on the dark cavern walls.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

"Who's there?" he said as confidently as he could. His echo bounced back at him over and over until the unanswered question faded into silence. Finally, he heard the reply, almost an echo itself.  
"Me, Harry Potter. You should be more cautious." said the familiar voice.  
"Show yourself, Tom."

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

"I am not Lord Voldemort." Replied the voice, as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into the small pool of light at Harry's feet. His dark complexion and bald head made it look like he was simply another section of the dripping, slimy wall. His gold hoops glinted almost threateningly at Harry as he held out his hand to be shaken. Harry hesitated, then pulled his hand away, narrowing his eyes.  
"Why are you here, Kingsley? This is my battle, not yours."  
"I am here to assist you, no more than that."  
"This is my battle, I said."  
"Ah, how little you know, Harry."  
Kingsley lightly placed his hand on Harry's shoulder in a brotherly manner. Even through the three layers of protective clothing Harry wore, he could still feel the icy coldness of Kingsley's hand seeping into his very bones.  
"Why are you so cold?"

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

Kingsley smiled maliciously at Harry, his brown eyes turning quickly to red gleaming slits beneath Lord Voldemort's deathly pale skin. Voldemort's grip suddenly increased, forcing the unsuspecting Harry onto his knees in front of the Dark Lord.  
"Now, Harry Potter," he spat, "are you ready to die?"  
"NEVER!" Harry roared, swiftly pulling his wand out of an inner pocket and pointing it at Voldemort.  
"_Impedimenta!_" Harry said savagely, catching Voldemort by surprise and pushing him back towards the cavern wall and out of sight in the shadows. Voldemort approached Harry again, now limping slightly. As he approached, Harry raised his wand once more.  
"_Lumos Maxima!_" muttered Harry, lighting up the entire cavern with a fierce white light.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

Both Harry and Voldemort stepped backwards momentarily, reeling and blinded, but Voldemort recovered first. With a tormented snarl of rage, he shouted "Crucio!" and Harry fell to the slimy floor, twitching and convulsing in pain. Voldemort laughed an evil, cackling laugh as Harry writhed on the slimy ground. Harry was now sitting up, straining with the effort of trying to throw off the powerful curse. Suddenly, with seemingly inhuman strength, Harry overcame the curse, slowly struggling to his feet. Voldemort merely smiled at his mortal enemy as Harry lifted his wand, pointed it at Voldemort's heart, and said the two words he'd been practicing for weeks.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

"_Avada Kedavra._"

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

The green light flew across the small space between them and swiftly enveloped Voldemort with an eerie green glow, before he too lifted his wand. The thread of golden light between their wands appeared. The golden bead of light appeared, and almost as quickly Harry, with all his strength, forced it into Voldemort's wand. As it connected, all his previous victims quickly started reappearing. First came the dark body and familiar gold hoops which Harry had seen only minutes before.

_Drip...Drip...Drip_

"Don't let him beat you, Harry. This is your last chance." Kingsley said, even though the sound seemed to come from very far away. Many more faces, none of which Harry recognized, appeared, and they crowded around him, all whispering frantically in Harry's ears. Then came the pale and ghostly, but very handsome figure of Cedric Diggory, who also whispered his own words of encouragement in Harry's ear. Somehow this gave him an extra reserve of strength with which to fight Voldemort. Finally, Harry caught sight of his parents, and they walked straight through the growing crowds of the other spectres, standing on either side of Harry, and each placing a cool hand on his shoulders.  
"You can do it." "We believe in you, son." "We love you."

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

With these words echoing through his brain, Harry seemed to redouble his efforts. He started to grow paler and slump back down to his knees, while Voldemort could only grow stronger by the passing minute. Slowly, Harry was forced onto the ground, lying and looking up into Voldemort's red eyes. He was now deathly pale and sweating with the effort of continuing the connection. The thread of light was now shaking violently, and Harry was losing all his strength fast, trying to keep his grip on his wand firm.  
Suddenly, Harry realised what he had to do. The connection would go on forever, and Harry could not recover strength enough to defeat Voldemort. There was only one option he had, only one thing he could do.

_Drip...Drip...Drip..._

"Goodbye, Ginny, I love you." Harry whispered into the darkness as he wrenched his wand away from Voldemort's wand, and the golden thread.  
The moment the thread was broken, a huge explosion shook the cavern. Both  
Harry and Voldemort were thrown violently against the slimy walls, and part of the cavern roof collapsed onto Harry, pinning his left arm to the ground. Voldemort rose again and advanced towards Harry. He tried to stand, but found himself unable to move his injured arm. Just as Voldemort raised his wand, he screamed in frustration, as Harry laughed in triumph as Voldemort pointed his now broken wand at Harry. Ignoring the pain in his left arm, Harry raised his right, pointing his own wand at where Voldemort's heart would have been.  
"_Avada Kedavra!_" Voldemort and Harry both yelled simultaneously.  
Another huge boom shook the cavern, and even more of the roof collapsed onto them. Harry's left leg was crushed by a huge boulder, causing him to scream in agony, while only a stray chunk of rock hit Voldemort's shoulder, causing only a slight scratch appeared. Voldemort was thrown backwards, unmistakably dead.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

With a grimace of both pain and triumph, Harry lay near Voldemort on the slimy ground and looked at the now dilapidated ceiling of the cavern. He tried to stand, but could not move or even feel the entire left side of his body. Slowly and painfully, he pulled himself across the dirty floor to where Voldemort lay. He checked his enemy's pulse, but there was none.  
I've finally done it, he thought to himself. Yet what is the use of living with only half a body? And they had still not found the final elusive Horcrux. Suddenly, Harry realised what the seventh and final horcrux was: himself, Harry Potter. After all, he could feel Voldemort's emotions, but Voldemort could not feel his. And what if the lightning-bolt scar, which had for so long been part of his life, was actually the place through which Voldemort had placed the final part of his tortured, fragmented soul? Harry now knew what he must do to save this, and all other, races of wizard and witches all around the world.  
"Ironic, isn't it?" he said bitterly, pointing his wand at his own temple.

_Drip…Drip…Drip…_

In the dank, pitch black cavern, a wand clattered silently onto the slimy, scuff-marked stone floor. Harry Potter lay motionless on the ground next to his long-time enemy, Lord Voldemort, as the darkness and silence enveloped them both for ever.


End file.
